Mississippi
by Aife Bisclaveret
Summary: Alternate reality/our reality story based around the song Mississippi by Train. Remy, Rogue and Ororo.
1. Mississippi

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men unfortunately, they are the property Marvel. The song Mississippi is by the band Train.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first ever attempt at an X-men story so I'll understand if you all think it's rubbish. It's sort of an alternate reality thing, my idea of what some of the x-men would be like in our world. It's based around the song Mississippi by Train, the story just sort of appeared as I listened to the song and refused to go away until I wrote it.  
  
  
  
Mississippi  
  
They call her Mississippi But she don't flow to me Spends her light on the Bayou  
  
But she don't come to see She's the one that makes my dreams  
  
They call her Mississippi But she don't flow to me  
  
The Louisiana summer day was characteristically hot and humid. The heat hung heavy in the air making the day still and dead. Anyone who ventured outside found themselves coated in a thin layer of perspiration within minutes. It was definitely not a day to be driving especially in a car with a broken air conditioner. He thumped the dashboard above the a/c hoping against hope that the miracle would happen.  
  
It didn't. He sighed and tried to concentrate once again on his driving. It would pick today of all days to start acting up. He'd already put off his visit home for far too long and he had the feeling he may have used the broken air conditioning excuse before and they would remember that. They probably kept a catalogue of his excuses just waiting for the day he'd screw up and use the same one twice. He didn't understand why it mattered to him; he was a grown man for God's sake he shouldn't have to make up excuses for not visiting his parents. If he didn't want to he didn't want to.  
  
His gaze fell on the woman dozing peacefully beside him. A lock of her brown hair clung to her face and he could see the gleam of sweat across her forehead and down her neck. She was curled into a very peculiar position made all the more uncomfortable looking by the seatbelt she wore; yet she looked perfectly at ease. He couldn't understand how she could manage it.  
  
Then there was a lot about his on-and-off again girlfriend he didn't understand. Maybe if he understood her their relationship would be better. He didn't really want to start thinking about it right then. They were in the early stages of an on again period, which meant things would be good between them for another month or so. When things went sour again, when one of them let their eye start to wander then he'd start thinking about why their relationship always seemed to falter and eventually fall.  
  
She moved suddenly and mumbled in her sleep. He wondered what she was dreaming about, if he played a part in her dreams. It was probably not the best thing to wonder about considering his own dreams. He didn't think he'd ever actually dreamed about her, fantasised about her sure, dreamed about her, no. Someone else entirely ruled his dream world and had done for a long time now. Someone he could never be with in the waking world became his everything in his sleep and only in his sleep. There had been a time, a chance but he had let it pass him by and now that chance, that dream flowed further and further from him.  
  
  
  
The shape of her horizon Makes the morning sun  
  
When she puts her eyes on Each and anyone  
  
She's the one that makes me fall Midnight moon shines through it all  
  
It was late in the afternoon when they finally pulled into his parents' yard. The heat hadn't receded any and it was silent and still as if everything was poised in anticipation, waiting for something to happen. When he stepped out of the car he felt sticky and grimy. The palms of his hands were slick with sweat and he wiped them on his jeans. Marie had woken up and was incredibly cranky. She'd complained non-stop about the heat and the crick in her neck she'd developed from sleeping awkwardly. He'd reminded her that she was the one who'd insisted on coming and that he had wanted he to stay at home. That had just sent her into a huff; it looked like the honeymoon period was over even earlier than usual.  
  
He began to collect their luggage swatting away a couple of mosquitoes that were intent on making him their next meal. It was only after he had lugged all the bags to the porch that he noticed the black clouds on the horizon. He smiled softly maybe the weather would break soon and they'd get some relief from the endless heat.  
  
His mother had been cooking dinner when they'd arrived but as soon as she heard them on the porch she rushed out to greet them. It had only been six months since he'd seen her last but it seemed to him she'd gotten much older and when he hugged her she felt much thinner and frailer in his arms.  
  
His father's greeting wasn't exactly the Bible version of the return of the prodigal son but he had gotten a hello that in terms of his father was pretty close to a fattened calf. He had also gotten a raised eyebrow when he saw him put both sets of bags in the same room. He was pretty sure his father was going to say something but his just as staunchly Catholic mother hushed him. However both of them treated Marie with nothing but politeness and kindness, not as though she was family, much better than that.  
  
He was sitting on the porch after dinner smoking a cigarette and watching the dark clouds roll in with a secret smile on his face when his mother came out and sat with him.  
  
"Marie's gone to bed," she informed him first off and then smiled as she followed his gaze. "She's here you know," she said softly, "on holidays from college. She still does it."  
  
That was all she said that cryptic message but he knew exactly who and what she meant. He known she'd be home but he'd intended to avoid her, not to see her at all costs. Though this seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. He'd see her for just a second and that would be it. Without giving it anymore thought he grabbed his jacket and headed off towards the house of their nearest neighbour.  
  
When he came in sight of the house he stopped; this was a stupid idea; he shouldn't be doing this. Then he saw her. She walked out of the house with her face turned upwards watching the ever-approaching clouds. It was a familiar sight, a ritual he had watched her perform a hundred, no a hundred hundred times and he still didn't know how she did it, she always seemed to know just the right time to come out, just when the storm would start. And as if to prove his point a streak of heat lightning blanched the sky seconds later followed quickly by a peal of thunder. The air seemed filled with electricity but the heat just became more oppressive as the rain stayed away.  
  
He watched the curve of her neck as she continued to look at the heavens and thought how regal she looked. She had told him once that her mother had been an African Princess but he always thought that had just been one of her fantasies or else her uncle exaggerating her parents' lives to her but looking at her right then he could believe it was true.  
  
The guys in high school had always mistaken the regal appearance she possessed as aloofness and talked about her as if she was this unattainable, unreachable goddess but he had never thought of her like that. How could he when he'd seen her with her face covered in birthday cake on her 7th birthday and the first time she'd gotten drunk, when he'd seen every embarrassing and humiliating occurrence in her life and been there for all the good times too.  
  
He'd seen her at her lowest points, seen her slave over her books to get the scholarship she needed to get into college. Seen how she always put her responsibilities towards others before herself. He'd seen her at her most human and he'd loved her for it; for his entire adolescence his sun and moon had rose and set in her.  
  
He watched as she raised her arms to the skies and then as if she commanded the heavens themselves the skies opened with a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder. He watched as she slowly began to dance in the rain. First her hips began to sway and then she moved her arms slowly tracing the path the rain took down her body, first through her hair then down her face, her neck and down her body. He had forgotten how sensual the dance was, forgotten what it could do to him.  
  
Watching her dance with that abandon, that passion made him remember another evening three years before just before she had left to go to college and he was getting ready to move to New Orleans. On a similar night they had sat together on his porch and watched as the sun went down and the moon came up. They'd talked for hours and then suddenly out of nowhere she had kissed him. He could still remember the passion, the desire and the need she had radiated into him and remembered how she had reacted when he had stopped her. She couldn't need him, he'd just end up hurting her, he wasn't the kind of good person she should be with, he wasn't the kind of person she should need. It wouldn't work, it would end and then their friendship would be destroyed and then he lose her from his life forever.  
  
He tried to explain it to her but she'd stopped him short. He'd seen her heartbreak in her eyes as she stood and left. And that had been that, in trying to save their friendship he had destroyed it. He still knew it wouldn't have worked between them because she was too good for him, the other guys had been right she was unattainable, always out of reach, too good for mortal hands to touch, well for his hands anyway.  
  
  
  
He watched as she opened her mouth and let the rain run into it. He watched as her chocolate hands became tangled in her silver hair. Then his ears filled with her joyful laughter as she just spun and spun in the rain celebrating the world, celebrating nature. As he watched her the reason he had given her her nickname came back to him and he felt the desire to call out to her.  
  
" `Ro time to come in," her uncle called just as the word spilled from his lips.  
  
"Stormy."  
  
  
  
She's the one that makes me fall Midnight moon shines through it all  
  
She's the one that makes my dreams They call her Mississippi  
  
But she don't flow to me They call her Mississippi  
  
But she don't flow to me 


	2. Fear

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men unfortunately, they are the property Marvel. The song for this part is Fear by Sarah McLachlan.  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first ever attempt at an X-men story so I'll understand if you all think it's rubbish. It's sort of an alternate reality thing, my idea of what some of the x-men would be like in our world.  
  
I did intend for this to be a one off piece but it seemed like everyone wanted to get their point of view across so this will now be 3 parts long, with the final part out on Friday, I hope. You can take this anyway you want really, as a continuation of the first part or on its own, whatever you want.  
  
I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last part of this story. Your reaction and reviews were totally unexpected and beyond greatly appreciated. Thank you all so much.  
  
Fear  
  
Morning smiles like the face of a newborn child  
  
Innocent unknowing winter's end  
  
Promises of a long lost friend speaks to me of comfort  
  
But I fear I have nothing to give  
  
I have so much to lose here in this lonely place  
  
Tangled up in your embrace  
  
There's nothing I'd like better than to fall  
  
But I fear I have nothing to give  
  
The singing of the crickets was the only thing that broke the stillness of the summer night. The air was blissfully cool after the wretchedness of the day's heat. The thunderstorm had washed away the warmth but the cloudless sky seemed to foretell more of the same for the next day. She lay beside him in the bed halfway between waking and sleeping listening to his deep breathing and feeling it caress the back of her neck lightly.  
  
The moonlight slipped into their room through a crack in the curtains and threw strange shadows across the floor while adding a silver tinge to some of the furniture. She tossed off the covers and slid out into the unfamiliar room. She wondered again why she had even bothered coming, Remy obviously didn't want her with him and as nice as his parents were to her she still felt out of place.  
  
She sighed gently and dropped into the chair beside the bed turning to watch him sleep. He turned over invading the space that she had occupied minutes before and in that one movement suddenly looked ten times more comfortable. A slow smile crept up his face as a name escaped his lips, the same name she'd heard him whisper in his sleep every night since she'd been with him.  
  
She wondered if there was a set code of conduct you should follow when your lover said another woman's name in his sleep. If there was it was doubtful she was adhering to it. She should have been angry about it, it should bother her but it didn't, not really. It was a fantasy, nothing more, the things he did in reality bothered her a whole lot more, not that she was an angel herself. Neither one of them was innocent in this relationship.  
  
  
  
Wind in time  
  
Rapes the flower trembling on the vine  
  
And nothing leads to shelter it  
  
From above  
  
They say temptation will destroy our love  
  
The never ending hunger  
  
But I fear  
  
I have nothing to give I have so much to lose here in this lonely place  
  
Tangled up in our embrace There's nothing I'd like better than to fall  
  
But I fear I have nothing to give  
  
I have so much to lose I have nothing to give  
  
We have so much to lose  
  
She stood and walked quietly around the room running her hand over the heavy, wooden wardrobe liking the way the intricate pattern felt beneath her fingers, admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into it. She caught a glimpse of her reflection as she did so, brown hair, green eyes, clear skin, pretty, or so people said.  
  
She glanced at him once again before she crept from the room. She padded down the long hall and into the kitchen. There was something hauntingly familiar about the brightly painted room with its gleaming workspaces and tightly packed shelves. She always believed there was an assumption that everywhere in the South was the same but nothing could be further from the truth, New Orleans was about as different as you could get from her small home town in Mississippi but this place, this house was achingly similar to her parents'. They even smelled the same, that faint smell of cooking left over from dinner and a smell that she never could define, a parents' smell.  
  
She wandered out on to the porch and looked upward at the moon that shone twice as brightly as it did in the city. She stretched slowly enjoying the feel of the night air on her skin. A slight breeze played gently with her hair as she gazed off into space and thought about what her friend had said to her the day before when she had told her she was back with Remy.  
  
"Again," she had exclaimed, "you guys have been on and off more times than a light bulb. It's getting tired, why do you keep going back to him? You could have anyone you want so why do you stay with him?"  
  
She just didn't understand, nobody did. Remy was the only one who really wanted to be with her. Sure other guys had wanted her, what was on the outside but no one wanted a relationship with her. No one was willing to go deeper than the surface, no one willing to touch anything but her outer layer except Remy. He'd been the only one willing to offer her more, a relationship, love; he was the only one. The only one who had managed to break through her barriers, the only one to really touch her, the only one who'd ever bothered to try.  
  
Sure they kept breaking up and getting back together again but that was her fault as much as his. They both had ideals, fantasies of what they felt love should be or whom it should be with. In ways she envied him because at least his ideal existed, at least it had a basis in reality but all she felt was a vague sensation that there had to be more than this, that there had to be something more out there for her. She held on to that belief though deep down she knew the truth, they both did. There wasn't anything better, there wasn't anything more, this was as good as it got for them both, as good as it ever would get. That was why they broke up so often, she was afraid of that, afraid of what that meant and they got back together because she was afraid too. She was afraid to be alone. Maybe if she was stronger they would be together all the time, maybe if she was stronger they wouldn't be together at all.  
  
Much as she loved Remy, and she did love him, sometimes it felt to her that their relationship was built on fear. That they were too afraid of what they really wanted to go for it, too afraid of getting really hurt so instead they clung to each other like two drowning souls struggling to keep afloat. So what did they really want? Well it was obvious what he wanted. He wanted her, his Stormy, to be with her and she; what did she want? She wanted love, true love, someone that loved her truly, completely, in waking and in sleep. Who spent their days with her and their nights dreaming of her. She wanted to be everything to someone, who was with her because they wanted to be with her more than anything; someone to whom she was first choice not someone they settled for.  
  
  
  
She sighed softly leaning out across the porch railing. No one was ever promised a perfect love and a happy ending except in fairy tales. You had to work at relationships and maybe this constant struggle was something everyone went through, maybe it was something everyone was supposed to go through. Maybe the aching heart, confusion and uncertainty were just markers along the way to happiness. Or maybe she was just letting her fear anchor her to her pain, letting it keep her in her unhappy state because she was too afraid to hope, to try for something more.  
  
She glanced once more at the shining moon then turned and returned to the house. 


	3. Blood of Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men unfortunately, they are the property Marvel. The song Blood of Me is by Heather Nova.  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first ever attempt at an X-men story so I'll understand if you all think it's rubbish. It's sort of an alternate reality thing, my idea of what some of the x-men would be like in our world.  
  
  
  
I really want to thank again everyone who's commented on the story so far, thank you so much. Really, really, really thank you all.  
  
Blood of Me  
  
Big ring around the moon  
  
Gonna rain hard soon  
  
I know you're gonna leave  
  
It's like a storm inside  
  
You're the blood of me  
  
You're the truth that hurts  
  
You're the memory  
  
You're the drug that works  
  
Though the sun had not yet risen light kissed the tops of the trees and the birds were twittering ceasely to each other. She sat down on the edge of the porch and waited to greet the day. As the sun broke the horizon silence descended as though time stood still for a moment. She breathed deeply in catching the scent of the new day. Dawn always smelt different from any other time, crisper, cleaner, fresher. As if the world had been reborn with each new sunrise.  
  
She loved to watch the sun come up from her uncle's porch; she did every time she came home. How she loved coming home, home where she was just 'Ro, child, niece, surrogate daughter, where she was loved. Really loved, warmly, unquestionably, humanly loved. Not like at college in St. Louis where all they saw her as was this unattainable, unemotional goddess type, beyond their reach and beyond feelings. A Venus DeMilo sitting on her pedestal, cold and immovable as stone but she wasn't. She was blood and bone, skin and muscle, heart and soul just like them; she was human just like them.  
  
Sometimes it was easier to be the aloof, cold goddess, so much simpler and safer to slip into that persona. It was so much easier than feeling if she didn't feel she couldn't hurt. Sometimes, usually at night in bed it would all catch up with her and she ended up crying for hours. So she rarely let her emotions show, rarely let her feelings through except when she was at home or dancing in the rain but even then she was a little afraid to, afraid that once she started to feel she couldn't stop and she would be swamped in pain and loneliness.  
  
Yes, she was lonely, of course she was, maybe a goddess could survive in a solitary world but she couldn't. She craved love and affection and friendship but she feared it too. Her heart had been broken so badly now it was brittle, fragile, libel to fall to a million pieces at the slightest touch. She'd watched her shattered soul slide through her fingers too many times to ever want it to happen again.  
  
Why do people change  
  
When our hearts still beat the same?  
  
You're the blood of me  
  
You're the truth that hurts  
  
You're the memory  
  
You're the drug that works  
  
I don't believe you when you tell me  
  
I don't believe you when you hold me  
  
I don't believe you, you're my medicine  
  
I don't believe you when you fuck me  
  
She pulled her legs up so she could rest her chin on her knees and closed her eyes listening to the early morning sounds. She felt sad, worse than that she felt weak. Everyone seemed to believe she was so strong but she wasn't, not really. She might put out this stony, 'I don't need anyone' attitude but inside she was screaming out for contact, longing for someone, anyone. Well no, that was a lie. Not just anyone, she longed for a pretty specific someone. As she thought that her eyes drifted in the direction of the nearest house to her. He was there; his mother had told her he would be there for the weekend, probably sharing a bed with his latest love.  
  
She wished she could move on as easily as he had but the memory of that night was etched on her heart forever. Sometimes she thought things would be better if that night had never happened, at least then they'd still be friends. But she realised that would probably be even worse, having to watch him with his women keeping her feelings bottled up inside, never knowing either way if there was a chance for them, being his friend but constantly longing to be something more. At least now she knew, she had laid her cards on the table, taken her gamble and lost it all.  
  
She could still remember the feel of his lips on hers when for that single moment it had seemed he wanted her too. Then he pushed her away and the world fell down around her. He'd used the whole I'm not good enough for you excuse but in truth it was the other way around, she wasn't good enough for him. He liked the always out of reach goddess, he liked the security that gave him. Goddess-forbid they got into a real relationship and he discovered she was a flawed human being like everyone else.  
  
That was the real problem, he wanted the ideal, the perfect fantasy, not the woman behind it. That was what hurt the most. She had known him for so long she knew all his faults and failings and she loved him not despite those flaws but because of them. They were what made him human; they were what made him himself. The constant flirting, the cigarette smoke, his arrogance, the teasing, he wouldn't be Remy without those things. Not that they were the only things she loved about him. She loved the way he seemed to bring an energy to everything around him, his generous nature, his beautiful hands, all made him who he was, all made her love him and much as she had tried not to she did love him.  
  
She had tried moving on and for a while she had thought she had at college. It had been different than with Remy; they didn't share the same understanding of each other but she had cared for him all the same. He had offered her everything, offered her forever but then as soon as he had got what he wanted from her he snatched it away again. Broken her heart and shattered her innocence, which was apparently what he had intended to do. It had been a game, take the virtue and destroy the innocence, shatter the illusions of the naïve little small town girl, show her the way the world truly was, show the guys he could get the girl that no one else could touch.  
  
He'd played the game well. Though maybe not as well as he'd intended because she was still naïve though she recognised that now, still hoping that it will all work out in the end, that she'd be with the one she wanted, the one she loved despite it all. She realised it was nothing more than a nice dream, a nice fantasy, he didn't want her any more but a part of her, a part of her that refused to die still held on to hope.  
  
She whispered his name into the early morning air, half wish, half prayer but knowing how truly hopeless it really was.  
  
  
  
You're the blood of me  
  
You're the truth that hurts  
  
You're the memory  
  
You're the drug that works  
  
You're the blood of me  
  
You're the truth that hurts  
  
You're the memory  
  
You're the drug that works  
  
Big ring around the moon  
  
Gonna rain hard soon  
  
The End. 


End file.
